A deserted mansion, a lonely churchyard, a village frozen in time. Throw in a corpse or two and a dogged detective, and you have the outline for the traditional British mystery novel. Detractors cry, “Formula,” as if that were a flaw, but those of us who love the form know better. Indeed, one of the greatest pleasures of reading a well-crafted mystery lies in recognizing the ways a gifted author rings changes on the basic pattern. In the case of Charles Todd’s mysteries, we’re talking about two gifted authors: Todd, as “his” fans know, is the pseudonym for an American mother-and-son writing team that has churned out 13 previous mysteries featuring Scotland Yard Inspector Ian Rutledge, a battle-scarred veteran of World War I. What’s more improbable than the collaboration is how consistently ingenious and atmospheric the Ian Rutledge novels are.
Even given Todd’s superlative track record, “The Confession” is a standout. It opens with a sly gesture to that classic film noir “D.O.A.,” in which a dying man visits the police station to report a murder. (Watch the 1950 original with Edmond O’Brien, not the awful 1988 remake with Dennis Quaid.) In “The Confession,” a “walking skeleton” appears at Scotland Yard on an oppressive summer’s day in 1920 and tells Rutledge that he’s dying of cancer and wants to clear his conscience of a murder he committed five years earlier. A few days later, the guilty man’s body turns up floating in the Thames; a bullet to the back of the head killed him before the cancer could. Now Rutledge is involved in two murder investigations, with only the flimsiest of clues to guide him: the dead man’s confession (which turns out to be riddled with lies) and a woman’s gold locket found around the corpse’s neck.
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